


A Single Step

by ZionAngel



Series: A Single Step Series [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 2x12 In the Name of The Brother, F/M, Fix-it fic, Spoilers, no cups were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She has always been there for him when he needed her most, been his rock, the one thing he could count on.  Now it’s his turn.  He owes her that much, at the very least.  He will be her strength, her shelter in this storm, the knight in shining armor she always deserved."  A week after getting out of the hospital, Rumpelstiltskin promises he won't rest until her memories are restored.  Belle has other ideas, and hopes that if she does the brave thing and tells him so, then bravery will follow.</p><p>A Rumbelle fix-it fic.  Breaks with canon midway through 2x12, "In the Name of the Brother."</p><p>If the muse cooperates, there will be more to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Step

Rumpelstiltskin makes the long, terrifying walk to the inn on a cloudy afternoon, six days after Belle is released from the hospital.  She has been staying with Granny and Ruby since she got out, and part of him is grateful that she has someone to look after her when he can’t.

He is nervous as he makes the journey, all but terrified, and with each step he must force himself not to turn around and run the other way.  With each step he tells himself that he _must_ do this, for her sake if nothing else.  He owes her that much, after everything.

His inner turmoil comes to a halt when he suddenly finds himself standing in the lobby of the inn, staring at Ruby, who watches him warily.  He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out.  He swallows, and tries again.

“I’d… I’d like to speak to her.  Please.”

She folds her arms and purses her lips, not quite looking him in the eye.  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.  I hear it didn’t go so well at the hospital.”

He cringes at the memory of Belle’s shrill screams, the terror in his eyes at the mere sight of him.  Afterward, Dr. Hopper had, apparently, heard what happened and talked his way in to see Belle.  He doesn’t know what he talked to her about, only that Hopper tracked him down hours later, saying Belle had asked to speak with him.  When he returned to her bedside, only the apprehension in her face stopped him from clinging to her, weeping and whispering how much he loved her and how sorry he was.  Instead, he sat beside her bed as she twisted her hands nervously, fidgeting with her hair until it partially obscured her face.  She asked quiet, hesitant questions for a few minutes, and he explained that they were lovers, that he was going to search for his long-lost son and she was bidding him farewell when an old enemy hurt her as revenge on him.  He explained that yes, he could use magic, and it was magic that had stolen away all her memories, even if she seemed to scarcely believe a word of it.  He learned that she was truly a blank slate, no memories of anything at all save for her basement cell, and he very nearly stormed into Hook’s cell and ripped his heart out right then and there.  It took every fiber of his being to keep his voice from breaking while he explained everything to her, and when, after only a few brief minutes, she asked him to leave.  He wanted to protest, beg her to remember him, see if he could bring her memories back with magic – but Dr. Hopper had come back in then, smiling gently, and escorted him out, telling Belle to get some rest.

“Please,” he murmurs to Ruby.  “I only want to say something to her, and then I’ll leave her alone.”

Ruby chews her lip and stares at him critically.  If nothing else, it seems Belle at least has a caring friend looking out for her.  Finally, she sighs, and nods toward the stairs.  “She’s in room 206.  Make it quick.”

Every step up the stairs it torturously slow.  Coward that he is, he wants nothing more than to turn and run, too ashamed and afraid to see her beautiful eyes full of mistrust and apprehension.  It feels like the day he gave her the library all over again, standing behind the bookshelves and fighting himself not to sneak out the back, to stay and face her and do something right for once in his wretched life, to give her a tiny bit of what she deserved, even if it meant breaking his heart in the process.  So many times as he waited for her to enter the library, he was tempted to run and let her believe some anonymous benefactor felt sorry for her situation, or simply wanted the library open again.  But he knew he owed her an explanation, an apology.  For all that he was riddled with anxiety and doubt the whole time, he forced himself to stay, dug up some pithy bit of courage from somewhere inside his miserable soul, and told her the truth.  He stayed, for her, because he loved her and knew he owed her that much at least, even if he would never see her again.

And as much as he wants to turn and run now, he knows he owes her this, too, so he reaches for a tiny scrap of courage, takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door.

“Belle?” he calls after a few moments when he doesn’t hear anything.  “It’s me, Rumpelstiltskin… Mr. Gold.”  He doesn’t know which name she’s been thinking of him as, if she’s been thinking at all of the stranger who claimed to love her, but nearly committed murder right in front of her and kissed her while she slept.  Still he hears nothing from the other side of the door.

“Belle?  I just wanted to say something to you.  Could you –”  He stops himself before he can ask her to open the door.  She’s probably still frightened by him, and making her face him would be an unnecessary cruelty.  And, for all the courage he’s summoned, he realizes he doesn’t have quite enough to look into her pretty, sad, fearful eyes while he says this.  It’s better like this.  “Well, I’ll… I’ll just say what I came here to say and then I’ll leave you in peace.”

He takes a deep breath and tries to think.  He had this all worked out in his head earlier, but now his thoughts are scattered and he can’t seem to put them back in order.

“What happened to you is my fault,” he finally blurts out, clinging to the first coherent thought.  “You trusted me, even when no one else in the whole world did.  I never deserved your love or your trust or your care, but you gave it anyway.  And I let you down.”

He fights away tears, centuries of carefully controlling his outer façade just barely allowing him to keep his voice even.  “One of the last things you said to me, when we reached the town line before I crossed… I asked you why you hadn’t given up on me, even after everything.  You said that when you find something worth fighting for you never give up.  What I mean is…”  He sighs heavily, and leans his forehead against the door.  “You never gave up on me, Belle.  And I have no right to give up on you now.”

He grips the head of his cane, running his fingertips over the intricate patterns to try to calm the storm within him.  “I _swear_ to you, Belle, I will do absolutely everything in my power to fix this.  I will not rest until you have your memories back.  What happened to you is my fault, and I will make it right, I promise.”

His voice cracks a little, but he’s made it this far, and he keeps going.  “And I don’t expect anything from you, not now or after you have your memories back.  If… if you _want_ to see me or talk or anything like that, you’re more than welcome to… but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.  You don’t.”  He prays to every god he’s ever heard of that she will.  “I will do whatever you want to do.  I’ll let you lead where you want this to go.  All right?”

Only silence greets him from the other side of the door, but he doesn’t expect anything.  He can think of nothing else to say.  He feels exhausted.  He wishes he could be with her, crawl into bed with her and hold her and tell her everything will be all right, and hear her forgive him.  He wants to fall on his knees and tell her he loves her over and over and over until his love alone restores her.  He just wants to be close to her, but he has nothing more to say, and he promised to leave her be.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he whispers, stepping back.  “I’ll leave you alone now.”

He turns and walks away slowly, his heavy heart breaking all over again.

…

Belle startles when she hears the knock on her door and the strange man’s voice.  She sits frozen on the bed, unsure what to do – she’s supposed to love him, she knows, but she can remember nothing about him and his sorrowful eyes hurt something deep within her.  In the few minutes she spent with him at the hospital, and the handful of times she spotted him from across the street he looked at her like she’d broken his heart into a thousand irreparable pieces.  He is so very intense and desperate, and he knows if it wasn’t for Dr. Hopper’s intervention when she asked him to leave, he would have pushed too hard.  She sits frozen on the bed, relaxing a bit when he simply starts talking.

She slips off the bed as silently as she can, and pads across the room to listen closer to the door.  He doesn’t quite seem to know what to say, but there is such raw emotion and tenderness and _sorrow_ in his voice that it breaks her heart, and she doesn’t even _know_ him.  But still, she listens, and what he’s saying doesn’t sound right – he’s looking for his son, she knows that’s where he was going the night everything happened, and instead he’s talking about finding a way to bring her memories back, and how can he possibly do both?  She suddenly feels guilty and a little bit angry and a lot desperate, and a lot of other things she can’t quite figure out, because nothing about this is right.  She’s all alone in her head with nothing, but this isn’t what she wants at all, but she’s too scared to open the door and say so –

But if doesn’t do it she won’t be able to go to him later and tell him that this isn’t right, and she doesn’t even know what she wants to say to him, but if she doesn’t say something _now_ she never will –

\- and she grabs the doorknob and pulls, and prays that if she tells herself she can do this, her mind will believe it and the fear won’t make her crumble.

She opens the door before she can think, and moves into the hall so she can’t shy away.  He turns and stares at her, his wide eyes full of surprise and fear and heart-wrenching hope.  She stares at him, clenching her fists at her sides and trying to breathe.

“Belle?” he whispers after long moments of silence.  It jars her mind into action, reminding her that she actually needs to say something.  She doesn’t know what to say, though, doesn’t even know exactly what she wants to do, only that he can’t waste hours or days or weeks trying to fix her.  She opens her mouth, and finally, words come out.

“I want to go with you.”  And she has no idea where those words came from, but they ring true, and she has no desire to take them back or replace them with anything else.

His brow furrows, and he slowly turns to face her fully.  “To… my home?”

She swallows her fear, bites back the temptation to say yes or simply dart back into the room, because she’s come this far and she’ll be damned if she lets it be for nothing.  “To find your son.”

His face falls, and he shakes his head.  “Belle… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She swallows a lump from her throat.  “I do.”

He looks like he wants to cry, and she fights off the guilt his look causes.  “Belle, you don’t –”

“You said I wanted to go with you before,” she blurts, not letting him speak another word because she knows if she does, she’ll lose her resolve.  “You told me that I had wanted to come with you to find your son, and I couldn’t because you didn’t have enough magic to keep both our memories.”  She shrugs, gesturing at nothing frantically.  “Well it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?  You shouldn’t be wasting your time trying to fix me.  What if your son needs you?  I don’t want him to suffer because of me.”

He holds up a hand, tries to interrupt, but she raises her voice and keeps going, clinging to a flicker of anger that seems to give her strength.

“Waiting won’t make it any harder to get my memory back, will it?  And while we’re on the subject of my memory, the _only_ thing I remember _at all_ is being stuck in that tiny, cold basement for god only knows how long, and then this last week of being here in this town with everyone staring at me like I’m some pitiful stray animal.  I want to get out of here, I want to see something _more_.  I’m not going to get any better just sitting around here, being afraid and feeling guilty because I’m making you stay here instead of going to look for your son.  I _want_ to leave this town and go with you to find your son.”

He shakes his head, looking like he’s on the verge of tears – but his resolve has weakened, and she is standing taller.  “Belle, this could be dangerous.  I have no idea where I’ll have to go or what I’ll have to do to find him –”

“I _want to go with you_ ,” she says as forcefully as she can, clenching her fists at her sides.  “You said you’d do whatever I wanted to do.  I want to go with you.  We’ll find your son, and then we’ll all come back here, and _then_ you can find a way to bring back my memories.”

It feels like he stares at her forever, looking heartbroken and afraid.  She can see him trying to puzzle some way out of this, some way to do things his way, but as she watches and waits, he comes up with nothing.  Belle forces herself to hold her head high, a little shocked that her strategy of forcing herself to do something and hoping the courage will come after actually seems to have worked.  Finally he looks at her, looking every bit as broken as he did the night on the road when she pushed him away.

“You have to do what I tell you,” he whispers.  “If I tell you something’s too dangerous, and you can’t do something, you have to promise to listen.  I can’t –”  His voice breaks, and he takes a shuddering breath.  “I can’t lose you again.  You have to promise to let me protect you.”

“And if I agree to that I can come with you?”  He swallows hard and nods, his face full of apprehension like the motion physically pains him.  “Then you have my word.”

He nods and casts his eyes down, looking utterly defeated.  “The deal is struck,” he murmurs, so softly she almost misses it.  “I’ll pack a bag for you and we’ll leave in the morning.  You should get some rest.  I’ll be here at seven.”

He glances at her before he turns and leaves.  Belle isn’t sure if she’s relieved or happy or heartbroken, and she doesn’t know if this is a good idea or the biggest mistake ever.  But she swallows down her fear as best she can, and returns to the sanctuary of her room.

…

Rumpelstiltskin returns to the inn early in the morning, as promised.  Most of the town is still asleep, only a few groggy people to avoid him on the street.

Part of him is so grateful his Belle wants to come with him, grateful that he won’t have to wait to find his Baelfire, that he won’t have to do it alone, that he won’t have to leave her here and pray that nothing bad happens to her.  Another part of him screams that this is a terrible idea, that the world out there is dangerous, that he’s a stranger to her, and reminds him that their encounters thus far have not gone particularly well.  He doesn’t think he can make this woman fall in love with him again, not after what she’s seen of him, what she’s sure to learn while they’re on the road.  Not when she’s not herself.

He doesn’t know how to talk to her, whether he should remind her of who she is or leave her be to discover who she is on her own.  He doesn’t know if he should tell her he loves her, swear his devotion over and over and promise to fix her.  Somehow he suspects that, after Belle falls asleep in the hotel tonight, he’ll be sneaking off to make a phone call to Dr. Hopper.  That is, assuming she still wants to come.  As he enters the inn, half of him hopes she’s changed her mind, while the other half prays that she hasn’t.

Instead of going up the stairs, he finds her sitting in the living room off of the lobby, fully dressed, her purse and coat draped across the chair beside her.  Ruby sits with her, holding her hands and talking quietly with a reassuring smile.  They look up when they hear him, and Belle’s eyes are apprehensive but full of determination, like she’s putting on a brave face.  Ruby stands, and Belle stands with her, holding her head up high.

“Why don’t I make you two some breakfast before you hit the road?” Ruby offers, and he nods.

The silence between them is more than a little awkward as they sit at a booth in the empty diner.  She fidgets with the wrapper of her straw, and after a few minutes, the thing is nearly torn to shreds.  “I’m scared,” she finally whispers.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

She shakes her head, and frowns at the paper in her hands.  “I _do_ want to.  I figure if… maybe if I just _do_ something brave, then the bravery will come after.”  The corner of her mouth twitches up.  “That must sound silly.”

He stares at her, swallows, and reaches across the table to take her hands – _his Belle’s_ hands.  “No.  No, that’s not silly at all.”

She glances up at him with a lopsided little grin, and he squeezes her hands tight.  If she can do this, after all that’s happened to her in just a week, without any memories, then he can be brave, for her, for his son, for himself.

Once they eat and drive to the town border, Bae’s scarf draped around his neck, he stops just inside the town line.  “Last chance,” he says.  “Are you sure?”

She reaches for his hand and squeezes tight, seeking strength, and looks at him with a determined set to her jaw.  “Yes.”

“Here we go.”  He gives her his most reassuring smile, and lifts his foot off the break.  Slowly, they cross over the town line, and Belle holds his hand tight the entire way.

She has always been there for him when he needed her most, been his rock, the one thing he could count on.  Now it’s his turn.  He owes her that much, at the very least.  He will be her strength, her shelter in this storm, the knight in shining armor she always deserved.

They drive in silence for long minutes, her grip on his hand gradually loosening.  “Tell me about your son.”

He smiles, and thinks of a time so very long ago.  “His name is Baelfire.”


End file.
